I'm Yours
by Starian Princess
Summary: As she flips through the pages of an old notebook, Orihime Inoue finds that even in a different world altogether only one man can make her heart break and become whole at the same time. GrimmHime
1. Teaser: From His Eyes

**I'm Yours  
****By Starian Princess**

* * *

Teaser: From His Eyes

Azure collided with grayish-brown, blinking back, gazing upon, and for a moment, perhaps even recalling. There was something about them, those innocent pools; they were familiar yet they seemed so far away and from so long ago at the same time. He would have reached out and taken hold of those delicate auburn strands, if only to quell the insane urge to touch her, to _possess_ her. But in the next instant the connection had ended, leaving nothing but a blank space of absolute nothingness in its wake.

"Ah, excuse me." She moved to her right, evading him and his piercing stare in the process. A light blush now tinted her pale cheeks. Somehow, he found himself entranced with the look and he had no idea how that was even possible. He was hardly ever interested in girls and when he was, it was usually about getting laid more than anything else.

This girl- no, woman though, she was different. She was reasonably pretty, he mused, with a delicate allure that screamed dependable at the same time. Her eyes, a clash of this and that- he couldn't quite make out-, were far from ignorant. In fact, they spoke volumes of happiness (of course), a simple kind of joy. Yet they also spoke of pain, a kind he couldn't understand.

He was lost, for a moment, in deep contemplation when he realized just where they were and what he was _not _doing. Maybe it was because of sheer male pride, maybe it was something else he didn't know, but he found that he just had to do something. He had to get her attention, give her a nice insult or two (for bumping into him); he had to do_ something_… to keep her from leaving.

He could have yelled about how stupid she was or how she should watch where she was going. He could have thrown out a nice fat cuss and been on his way, which would have been what any normal bad-ass would have done. He could have simply ignored it actually, let it go just this once. Instead though, what left his mouth was a line he never imagined he would say, not in this lifetime at least.

"I know you."

**-TBC-**


	2. Chapter 1: Signed

**I'm Yours  
****By Starian Princess**

_Synopsis: Another time, another life, another chance… Would she fall in love with the same person though? As she flips through the pages of an old notebook, Orihime Inoue finds that even in a different world altogether only one man can make her heart break and become whole at the same time. _

* * *

Chapter 1: Signed

"I know you."

Three simple words; she could have ignored them. She could have kept walking, could have closed her eyes, taken a deep breath and acted like she hadn't heard them. Most people would have done that; most _sane_ people would have tried to at the very least. But she inevitably wasn't like most people and she obviously wasn't like most sane people either.

"Excuse me?" In truth, she didn't even have the time for this. She didn't have the time to be stopped in the middle of the sidewalk by some strange man she'd never met before. But for a reason unknown, her feet wouldn't budge. They refused to move, flat out like they had turned into lead and the rest of her body parts, the traitorous bunch, weren't helping matters.

Maybe she was afraid that she'd miss something, maybe she was having the cramps, maybe she just lost herself in thought for a moment and presently, couldn't remember what she had been thinking about. The fact was, however, that she was standing still on a busy street, her satchel clutched tightly at her side and an unfathomable frown marring her face.

Of course, that wasn't the end of it.

She wasn't facing him but she knew the man was grinning. She couldn't see his eyes but she knew that there was a bit of a twinkle in his brazen gaze. And it bothered her that she could sense all this and more, but that was the least of her worries.

"You heard me," he had unabashedly placed his hand on her shoulder and tugged with enough strength and maneuvering to finally get her to come face-to-face with him. And for a moment, she was dazed out of her mind. A blue so endless, so indescribable bore into her very core; melting away, burning through, devouring. The heat was more than just disturbing, the longing (wherever that had come from) was eating at her, and the confusion tried to drag her down. She had never felt so completely incomplete before.

And then something within her snapped.

Her hand, fortunately heeding to her inner cries for help, balled itself into a tight fist, ready to plant a well-deserved punch on his pompously smug face. She would have succeeded too, had it not been for his next odd remark.

"I've told you before, woman, I'm not gonna let you go."

All she could do for the next few seconds was stare back. It was senseless, absolutely ridiculous, and more than plain crazy. She could tell herself that over and over and over again, until her brain turned itself into a complete muddle. But in the back of her head, behind memories that could have stayed tucked away for eternity and beyond, she knew… She knew very well that she had heard those words before, if not ones similar to them.

"I… I don't even know you," she pushed away from him, afraid to tilt her head up even just a little bit, because she knew she wouldn't be able to contain herself if she saw that look again. The little bit of sanity left inside her demanded that she get away from him as fast as she could, lie to him if she had to.

"Of course you do. I know you and you know me." But he wouldn't let her. He continued to look at her with what she presumed was determination, because he knew… Somehow he knew her, and he knew she knew him. Only she didn't, she couldn't have. It was impossible. She would have remembered such a face, such a smirk, such an aura, such a person.

"You must have gotten me mixed up with someone else," she argued back. A devastatingly familiar feeling was creeping through the pits of her stomach. It was uncomfortable, it was almost unbearable… She felt sick. Her head was playing tricks on her, making her see things that weren't there. She_ knew_ these things weren't there to begin with. The man wasn't wearing white, he was in black. And he wasn't wearing a jacket; he was wearing a sweater and jeans. There was no gaping hole in his abdomen, she couldn't even see through his clothes. And he definitely wasn't wearing a half-mask on the right side of his face; that was just a figment of her imagination. It had to be.

"I'd never forget."

"Well, you must have!" She took a step back; one then two, and then another one. But before she could make it, his voice, taking on a different- harsher tone, stopped her in mid-stride.

"Stop acting like you don't know anything. Your little game can only go so far." Twice, twice in a day had she almost lost her temper and that rarely happened. No, that never happened. She was composed, supposedly indifferent, demure perhaps, but never near callous. Never like this.

"I'm not playing any games. I don't know who you are, and you don't know who I am. So please, leave me alone!" She had meant to turn away from him and finally been on her way. She had meant to never look back, to never see his face again, and to never regret her decision.

But the hand clasped firmly around her wrist wouldn't even let her try. It was then that she broke down finally, for all the running and the fighting, all the uncertainty and the pain was just too much for her to bear.

* * *

"Why won't you leave me alone?" She asked him this later as he sat down beside her and massaged the sore muscles of her back. And for a moment all she got from him in return was complete silence. She was just about to give up and give in and let her eyes roam around his fairly empty apartment when she heard a reply.

"I already told you. I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever." Earlier, he had repeated these words softly over and over again in her ear, like a soothing mantra to calm her down. And surprisingly, his strange method had worked.

"You don't even know my name," she let out a laugh, half-heartedly for it was true. Not once had he said it and not once had he acted like he knew it.

"It doesn't matter." Of course, he wouldn't deny it either. She had come to find that he was blatantly honest and that when he wished to do so, he would answer her questions without batting an eye. She had yet, however, to get his name herself and wasn't quite sure what he would gain from keeping it from her.

"To you perhaps, but to me, it does," she countered him again; much like she had the last few times he'd tried to end their conversation. It was puzzling really, for the man who looked just as outspoken as his face portrayed actually preferred to spend his time with her in silence, without any words being said. It was like he wanted to freeze their moment in his mind, contentedly looking at her the way he did. Like no words really needed to be said.

"Why were you in a hurry a while ago? Where did you need to be?" It surprised her again, how he could bring up such topics out of the blue. He had already talked to her about her family, about friends, and about work, in between her muffled sobs and hiccups. And she had understood perfectly, he wasn't the type who comforted, if his wariness wasn't already a dead giveaway.

"I-," she paused then, finally recalling what she'd intended to do, "I was supposed to be looking for someone."

"And who would that be?" He sounded like he didn't care and she knew she shouldn't get ahead of herself, especially with any matter that pertained to him. But she knew, oh she knew, he was curious. He wanted to know, and she would let him know.

"An old… acquaintance. I've been looking for him for quite some time now. Maybe you know him or have heard his name before?" It was wrong, completely uncalled for but she wanted him to keep probing. She wanted him to ask more, she wanted to have the upper hand, at least with this.

"Ch, I doubt it. If he's an old classmate or somethin' along those lines, I don't think so. Besides, he sounds like a wimp. I wouldn't have remembered such a dork anyways." He had turned away for a second and therefore, couldn't see the look of wicked triumph on her face. A stray piece of reddish-brown hair fell across her forehead, and she tucked it away before rebutting in a steady rhythm.

"No, he isn't a wimp and definitely not a dork. He's strong and courageous and a wonderful man. I'm sure he turned out to be all those things and more." And inside, she believed her own words with all her heart. She believed the image she saw in her mind, so carefully drawn in orange shades with a little bit of blue and brown. She believed in the man she knew she'd meet again, her first love, her obsession.

"Ichigo; Ichigo Kurosaki, that's his name."

So absorbed was she in her own fantasies that she barely noticed it when his arm came out of nowhere, curling around her waist and pulling her towards him, crushing her against his chest. The roughness and possessiveness of it all quickened her heartbeat and she stared up at him with widened eyes, so many questions passing through them, more for her rather than him.

"Wait, what are you-," she tried to wedge her arms in between them but found that that was futile. He was hell-bent on keeping her there, firmly in place, a prisoner in his own jail.

"Don't ever mention that name again." That was all he said, so quietly, so commanding, so absolute. And then… he kissed her, hard, without a doubt in the world, so incredibly passionate. She had never felt so free before, even when in the back of her mind she knew she couldn't escape.

**-TBC-**


	3. Chapter 2: Sealed

**I'm Yours  
****By Starian Princess**

Chapter 2: Sealed

As he groggily draped an arm across her back, the first thing that came to mind was strawberries. She could see them in a big blue bowl at the far end of the room, sitting innocently atop the coffee table. Had he placed them there while she was sleeping? Or had they always been there to begin with? She was, nevertheless, delighted to spot something edible for it seemed like an eternity had passed since she'd last had a proper meal.

Time traveled so quickly when she was with him, she mused, smiling as she turned on her side, the arm previously wandering towards her bottom now lying still against her stomach. For a moment, she drifted off again, taking note of how his skin contrasted with hers and how warm she felt there beside him. It felt like a usual occurrence actually, her waking up next to him. It was like it was predetermined by fate, like it was the beginning of a romantic movie she'd seen… More than that, it felt like it was meant to happen.

And then she stopped, blinking, then closing her eyes, and then opening them again. No, she whispered in her head, it _wasn't_ supposed to happen at all.

She slowly dragged herself towards the nightstand, her icy-blue hairpins shimmering in the dark, forgetfully tossed against a red silk tie. She blushed, remembering how the said tie was used the previous night and shook her head, clearing it, before reaching for the treasured mementoes. Why? Why was it that when she thought of him alone everything felt so real- everything felt so right? But when she thought of him along with someone else, thought about him in connection to her life, like with her brother or with the man she was searching for, it felt like she was supposed to wake up from a horrible nightmare? Why did it hurt so much to think of him, to try and remember?

"Hi-Hime," his voice, accompanied by a resounding yawn, broke into her thoughts then. And she whirled around sharply, her eyes widened, mouth agape. Something was wrong and she knew what it was. Still, she couldn't believe it.

"You know it," she trembled, grasping the pale yellow sheets, "my name. How did you- When did I ever mention it?" In her mind, she desperately searched for the exact moment she did, hoping, wishing that somehow she could find the answer there. But she knew the truth; she knew and refused to admit it to herself.

"You tricked me," her voice shook with a mix of anger, fear, and betrayal, tears streaming down her cheeks. Like a glass wall, it shattered before her very eyes; her dreams, her memories, her life. How could he do this? Why would he do this? Who _was_ he, really?

"I didn't do it on purpose." He sounded so calm, like he had predicted it. And that, in turn, broke her even more.

Quietly, she stood, the sheet falling back against the bed, her body bare for him to see. But she didn't care, not anymore. She reached for her pins and secured them in place, her face remained blank. And then she walked, as if gliding in a trance, towards the couch, where her clothes had been strewn amidst their passionate lovemaking. She saw nothing passionate about them anymore.

"Where're you going?" He remained in the same position, watching her from his bed, as if displaying the evidence of her sins. She sighed to keep herself from throttling him because she knew that if her resolve broke as well, she definitely would.

"Away from you," she answered witheringly as she fastened her belt and patted her dress. Once again, she moved, this time towards the door where her sandals had been placed beside his shoes, and where her bag was leaning against a stepping board.

"You'll be back." Oh, how she _hated_ him. She considered actually telling the vile man this but she paused midway and did something completely unlike herself instead.

"Shut up."

And with that, she was out the door. On the other side, however, a fairly disgruntled man let out a bitter laugh.

* * *

It didn't take weeks, not even days. A mere five hours later, loud pounding was heard within the small apartment complex. The other tenants, if they were even a bit curious, refused to acknowledge it or to even look out their peepholes. This was because no one wanted anything to do with the rowdy man in Room 6, of course.

As he emotionlessly let her back in, all she could do was glare. Of all the nerve! She knew he was laughing at her, knew that he was making fun of her behind her back. She knew he'd planned it all, knew that he would shove it in her face. She really, really hated him.

"Give it back." Her hand was outstretched, waiting expectantly. She didn't intend to have anything more to do with him, let alone a conversation. But he seemed to have other plans.

"Give what back?" Again with that beyond irritable smirk of his! Did he have no shame? Of course, he didn't have any. Only a man like him would actually do something so… so… evil.

"The notebook, that's what!" What scared her the most though, was the fact that within her heart full of intense loathing, hidden passed the walls that she strived to keep locked up, was relief. She was relieved to be back, the promise of safety enveloping her once more. But she couldn't understand it, and she vowed she'd never ever tell him this.

"Oh. That." From behind him, he drew out his arm, the flimsy pink relic clutched in his hand. Time came to a stop as she stared longingly at it, unconsciously holding her breath. That seemingly useless piece of writing medium was actually so much more. It was her proof, it was her adventure, it was her life.

Tentatively, she reached out, ready to take it back. But before she could even touch it, he stopped her, his eyes growing dangerously dark.

"This," he started before tossing it over to his couch, "is nothing." He sounded angry, she told herself, like a volcano ready to explode. She didn't know why though, and she didn't know why she even cared to know. Nonetheless, her feet refused to move.

Maybe inside, she knew that something would happen if she walked over to retrieve it. Maybe inside, she could sense her own demise. Maybe again, she was just going crazy. Because she could tell, because she could predict things about him she never imagined herself knowing.

"That notebook is everything," she countered, her voice so soft. Tears were threatening to spill again and she didn't want to cry in front him. She didn't want to look weak; she didn't want him to have something more to gloat at her about.

"You don't have to believe what it says. It's a piece o'crap some sorry soul left behind."

A furious tension and silence followed, like another volcano was about to blow. She balled her hands into tight fists, her bangs shading her eyes. From where he was, she knew he could see her lower lip trembling. But that no longer concerned her.

"…I wrote it," she looked up at him after the pause, grayish-brown blazing in flames. It was then that she took menacing steps towards him. And once reaching him, she brought her hands out and started pounding.

"You idiot! You insensitive jerk! Does it mean anything to you at all that that is my sole purpose right now?" Her hammering turned into punching, "That is my truth, the reason I try so hard!" And her punching turned into shoving, "And you just discard it like it's nothing!"

She then found herself leaning against him for support, sobbing for the second time against his chest, frustrated beyond belief.

She thought that it couldn't get any worse, that nothing more could happen, but she was wrong. Gently, she felt him lift his arms and without so much as her permission, the man she so hated with all her heart- who she had tried to hurt physically and whom she still wanted to hurt, embraced her.

* * *

The notebook was left forgotten (now lying atop the coffee table), very much like everything else, as her breathing quickened and his chest rose. Her clothes had been discarded in a few swift maneuvers and were hanging at the edge of the bed, where is own clothes had soon followed.

She tightened her hold on him, her arms hanging from his neck. And then, she screamed out, moaning and writhing beneath him, pulling him closer. He bit down hard, leaving his mark above her collarbone. She could have cared less now; there were marks everywhere- on her thighs, on her arms, on her back. And she knew he was damn proud of his handiwork too; the jerk.

It was hours later when they finally stopped and hours later when she finally found some semblance of sanity within her to get up and reach for the bowl of strawberries. She took bite after bite, satisfying her hunger before turning to him to meet his smirk.

"I've got some whipped cream in the fridge if you wanna do something fun." She would have laughed and the idea was tempting and all, but she had to get down to business first. At least before dinnertime.

"Tell me your name," she stared hard at him, waiting for his answer, needing to know. And he stared back for a few seconds before finally complying.

"It's Grimmjow- Grimmjow Jeagerjaques."

She would have smiled, would have walked back to him and pressed her lips against his, would have laid in that large bed of his with him and marveled at his unique name.

But as she mouthed the name in her mind and heart, her world went into a complete and utter black. And somewhere in a far away place, she could hear someone else talking, someone familiar, someone she could never forget.

_"Next time, I'll definitely protect you."_

**-TBC-**


End file.
